


The Gaian Prometheus

by banorawhites



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Inspired by Frankenstein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banorawhites/pseuds/banorawhites
Summary: "Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master; obey!" - Mary ShelleyHojo is confronted in the Nibelheim mansion by the creation he detests most.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The Gaian Prometheus

“You are my creator, but I am your master; obey!”

The walls of the decrepit Nibelheim mansion seemed to shake with every syllable out of Sephiroth’s mouth. His sword was still attached to his hip, but he didn’t need that to strike fear into Hojo’s heart. The scientist knew full well the power he had given his creation, enough power to tear the man limb from limb in seconds. Sephiroth was holding back, and Hojo knew it.

Carefully, Hojo stepped backwards, inching away from Sephiroth’s domineering form, moving until his back hit the dissecting table and his hand found the clammy flesh of a leg, a girl killed, revived and killed again in Hojo's moment of panic. It was a pity that she had to die, she had been such a promising specimen, but the last thing Hojo needed was Sephiroth and the Ancient after him.

“I am not succumbing to your childish demands. I am not unleashing another demon like you onto this world!” Hojo’s hand moved blindly across the table, grabbing a scalpel and raising it as if that would prevent Sephiroth’s potential onslaught. It was a pitiful attempt, and Hojo was sure he could see Sephiroth’s lips curl into a sneer, even in the barely lit basement he was working in.

“You consign me to loneliness for all of my miserable life and expect me to accept it. I may be your creation, but I am no animal. Monster I may be, but that does not deny me companionship!” Sephiroth’s voice was cut with pure malice, and it was as if all of Jenova’s rage were condensed into one moment, so strong Hojo could taste electricity in the air.

“She is dead, Sephiroth! I refuse to revive her again! I will not turn back on my word.”

Hojo’s palm was beginning to grow sweaty, and the scalpel slipped in his grip, clattering to the floor with a sound that made the scientist’s ears ring.

“Very well.” Sephiroth shut his eyes, and his palm fell to Masamune’s hilt. “You will be spared for now. But my mercy will not be quite as gracious. I will not rest until you have paid the price for creating me.”

Sephiroth’s wing burst from his back, sending a rush of wind around the room, scattering feathers and paper alike. Hojo raised an arm to cover his eyes, and by the time he removed it, Sephiroth had disappeared, only leaving dark feathers and the knowledge that Hojo would soon be dead in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> There is no way Hojo is not inspired by Victor. The parallels are amazing. I would turn this into a full fic if I had the time or energy, but for now, it will have to stay as this snippet.


End file.
